The Dualities of Desire and Fear
by Emerald S. Sparrow
Summary: You know you're screwed when the Mirror of Erised and a Boggart both show you the same person.


**Disclaimer : I'm making no profit, claiming no characters as mine (oh how I wish Snape was mine!), and I don't own HP or anything related.**

 _Author's Note: Found a quote on tumblr which said, "You know you're fucked when the Mirror of Erised and a boggart both show you the same person." Wellllll…. The plot bunnies came a-hoppin' (okay maybe the smut bunnies) and here we are. Your reviews give me life! I am so amped up on Snamione lately, it's wonderful and I don't want it to go away!_

 _Considerations: PWP, Post-DH, AU, rated M for a reason, etc._

* * *

Tensions were high. After trying repeatedly to find the Room of Requirement and failing as they both kept thinking of what they needed differently, they had finally found it and, as it applied, the Room of Hidden Things.

Headmaster Severus Snape had not exactly been helpful when Hermione Granger, Head of the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic, had swept in high-handedly and asked - no, demanded - his cooperation in helping her to acquire a pair of items from the Room of Hidden Things.

Digging through endless relics was not his idea of an enjoyable afternoon, especially in the company of a particularly insufferable witch who felt safe barking orders at him because of her newly-appointed position at the Ministry. The last few years had been remarkably kind to Miss Granger, but that damned mouth of hers was just the same. If she would just keep those delicious lips closed, he would be able to forget the annoyance she caused him and focus on the generous curve of her hips, the swell of her perky breasts straining against her prim black button-down blouse, and her firm, round ass just begging to be swatted in a tight grey pencil skirt. Yes, what a pleasant surprise it had been when she'd divested her robes to better be able to search for items in the cramped, overcrowded room. And then she'd opened that damned mouth and ordered him - _him!_ \- to begin scouring for the Mirror of Erised.

"And what," he asked with irritation as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "will you be looking for?"

She considered him for a moment then snorted. "I'll know it when I see it. Get to work." She turned away and pranced in the opposite direction, wand in hand.

His jaw clenched at the command. How he'd love to get his hands on her and teach her a lesson she had certainly never learned at Hogwarts.

Resigned to his duty, he sighed and removed his overcoat, then proceeded to roll up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. His hands were about to get very dirty, and not in a fun way.

* * *

It was nearing an hour later when he pulled a dark covering from a rectangular frame, unveiling the Mirror of Erised. Despite having been covered, it was incredibly dusty.

"I've found it!" his voice boomed across the massive room, which more closely resembled a bloody cavern, it was so large.

"I'll be right there," came the distracted response.

He scowled. He'd been searching nonstop for near an hour, and she was going to make him wait longer? Perturbed, he began roughly polishing off the surface of the mirror with the faded black cloth, and stepped back to examine it upon finishing the task.

His breath caught. He'd had no intention of looking into the depths of this damned mirror. And he was certainly regretting it now, as his dick stirred and formed a tent of the front of his trousers.

Instead of a reflection, there was Hermione Granger, splayed out on his desk like a pagan offering, moaning as her hips bucked against his mouth. One of her hands was clutching desperately in his hair, her other hand wantonly massaging her breasts. She was writhing uncontrollably, knocking various items to the floor as he feasted on her like a man who had gone without water for too long.

He couldn't tear his eyes away. As she began to shake and enclose his head with her thighs, he realized his hand was rubbing at his dick through his trousers.

There was a sudden clattering sound, and a feminine gasp, and then he suddenly heard a man's voice speaking to Hermione. _His_ voice.

"What in the bloody hell…" He started toward the other side of the room, willing his hardened length and pounding heart to calm.

As he came around the corner, he saw Hermione backed up against a mountain of trunks, clutching at them with widened eyes, her wand on the floor at her feet. In front of her was a predatory version of himself, head down, obsidian eyes glittering at her, as he approached her slowly.

He realized as his eyes found the trunk behind the copy of himself that she was dealing with a Boggart. Well, at least, had encountered one. She was hardly dealing with it. He watched with amusement as a hand fluttered at her throat, and she looked pitifully down at her fallen wand as if it were yards away.

So the witch was scared of him? How interesting.

"I can smell your fear," the Boggart-Snape told her, his voice at its lowest pitch. "And your arousal. You love to fear me, don't you, Miss Granger?" He prowled toward her inch by inch.

Snape's eyes widened and he stepped forward, drawing his wand to cast the _Riddikulus_ charm. "Step aside, Miss Granger, I'll take care of this-"

The Boggart's gaze swung to him, and in a blink it had formed into something else. Someone else, someone who had just been reflected in a quite compromised position in the Mirror of Erised.

"Do I scare you, Headmaster?" Boggart-Hermione purred, heels clicking as she sashayed toward him. He backed up, his eyes bulging. She lowered to her hands and knees, crawling toward him like a stalking tigress. "You should be scared," she told him huskily. "I'm going to take everything from you," she promised sensually.

"What in Merlin's name!" Hermione's gasp came. He could hear the slide of her wand against the floor as she retrieved it.

It was the distraction he needed. Gripping his wand tightly, he cast, " _Riddikulus!_ "

His eyes met Hermione's, and they both swallowed hard.

"I don't want to discuss it," Hermione finally announced stiffly.

"My sentiments exactly," he agreed, jaw hardening. Oh, but he did very much want to discuss her fear of him. He just wasn't keen on the contrary, because it had been incredibly unexpected for him. Did he fear Hermione Granger? He didn't think so. But after seeing her in the Mirror of Erised, the power she'd held over him - that had definitely put some fear into him. That woman would bewitch his mind and ensnare his senses, if he allowed her to.

"You found the Mirror?" she asked tightly, striding in the direction from which he had arrived.

He cleared his throat and fell into step beside her. "Yes. Stowed away as if not meant to be found. It is a dangerous object," he warned her, forcing out the sensual images rushing through his head.

"I'm sure I will be just fine," she informed him, head high.

Snape approached it warily, but Hermione marched straight up to it and stared directly into the Mirror. He watched as her expression became one of disturbed interest.

"Oh, gods," she breathed, hand going to her throat as it had when the Boggart-Snape had approached her. "Not you again," he heard her murmur. Her eyes had glazed over with desire, a look he was sure had been on his own face when he had stared into it.

"What is it you see?" he asked, voice low. He was beginning to make the connection. Hermione had always feared him, and from that fear had grown somewhat of a sexual interest in him. She was afraid of her own attraction to him, of being drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He had no doubt that she was seeing something very similar to what he had only minutes before.

"None of your bloody business," she hissed at him, and snatched the covering that had been on the ornate piece. She threw it back over the Mirror, her breathing heavy.

"I'll tell you what I saw," he offered, prowling toward her as Boggart-Snape had. She faced him and her eyes went wide. "You, Miss Granger, bare before me. Caressing yourself with your hands while I caressed you with my tongue." He smiled wickedly, and watched as her throat worked to swallow nervously. She licked her lips, and his dark gaze caught and held there. "Would you like to know where?"

She gaped at him, frozen to the spot. He halted, his hands itching to feel every inch of her body.

She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. "I saw nothing of that sort, Headmaster."

He smirked. "Liar." And then he surged forward, a hand at her nape to hold her mouth to his as he crushed her lips in a heated kiss. His other hand worked expertly at the buttons of her blouse while he plundered her mouth, his tongue avidly urging hers to duel.

Her hands slid up his chest, and he had just wrested her shirt wide open when she forcefully pushed him away. He stumbled back, eyes raking over her creamy skin, the movement of her chest heaving up and down. They stared at each other for endless intense moments, and he was sure she was going to hex him into next year.

But then he was suddenly on the ground, not from a hex, but from her body flying into his as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him fervently. Her hands searched over his body until she began prying the tail of his shirt from his trousers. She whipped it over his head and scratched her nails down his chest, her ravenous desire matching his own.

He rolled her beneath him and shoved her skirt up her thighs, groaning at the feel of her hot, silky skin. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to make what he had seen in the Mirror a reality. Her fingers were already gripping tightly at his hair, her moans filling the cavernous room and amplifying in his ears.

He ripped her tights down, paying no mind to the splitting fabric. He clutched at her sensible underwear, inwardly laughing at what a good witch she appeared to be, when she was clearly _so very bad_. His eyes traveled over the triangle between her thighs, tight little curls beckoning him.

"Fuck, you're glistening," he purred deeply, his hot breath hitting her mons. He slid a finger down her nether lips, enjoying watching her writhe. "You're going to taste so good," he told her in a growl.

"Then fucking do it," she compelled him, urgency and frustration in her tone. She pressed his head down. "Taste me," she commanded, and he suddenly had no problem with her ordering him around.

His tongue dipped between her folds, and she cried out in ecstacy. He hummed against her; he liked being right. She was delicious, and he wanted more. He wrapped one hand around her thigh and spread her open further, while using his other hand to part her slit. His tongue teased her clit, sliding along it languorously, causing her to scream and arch up against his mouth. He buried his face in her heat, his now-useful large nose rubbing against her sensitive nub as his tongue plunged eagerly into her depths. Over and over he thrust in, savoring her taste and her scent and her gasps and her moans, until he felt her tightening as she reached the height of her pleasure.

He pulled back at the last second, laughing deeply as she spewed curse words at him.

"What are you going to do about it, witch?" he asked of her, but barely got the words out as he was suddenly flat on his back and she was rising above him.

She stroked his cock firmly, and he hissed. Her finger swirled in the precum seeping out of him, and she hummed in pleasure as she lifted the finger to her mouth and sucked it clean.

A zing of furious desire roared through him at the sight, and he felt suddenly very impatient to be inside her. His hands went to her hips, and he positioned himself at her entrance. She guided him into her wet heat, and he thrust upward in a powerful move that had her gasping. Her head fell back, and she steadied herself with her hands gripping his thighs behind her. The sight of her atop him, grinding languidly, hair wild around her head and shoulders, mouth opened as she moaned, set him aflame as nothing ever had. He suddenly realized why he was very, very scared of Hermione Granger.

"Oh," she cried, gyrating in an unbearably sexy little twist, " _There!_ "

She moved in the same motion again and again, clenching tightly around him each time, making him feel as if he'd lost all sense. He thrust to her rhythm, growing obsessed with her pleased response sounds. As her moans escalated, turning into staccato squeaks, her feminine muscles capturing him in a vise grip, he held her upper thighs firmly and circulated his hips in such a way that they were both shouting their climax to the heavens.

She collapsed onto his chest, her hair covering his face. He pulsed within her as aftershocks fissured between them. He wasn't sure where her pounding heartbeat began and his ended. All he knew was that the Mirror of Erised and the Boggart from the trunk had been spot on.

* * *

"What were you searching for, anyway?" he asked of her, as they tidied themselves up.

She cast a hesitant glance at him. "You wouldn't understand."

He pushed a dark strand of hair out of his face and straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. "Try me," he challenged her.

She muttered a spell to repair her ripped tights. As nonchalantly as possible, she told him, "We've been furthering our research into the magic behind love. I offered myself to be the proverbial guinea pig, as it were, and held a prophecy meant strictly for me. It hinted I would find my 'true love' hidden away at Hogwarts."

Snape narrowed his eyes even as he felt a strange flip-flop in his stomach. "And so, naturally, you assumed it was in the Room of Hidden Things."

She rolled her eyes and reached up to glamour her hair back into place. "That remains to be seen," she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

"Bollocks," he growled at her. "You saw what you were meant to see."

"There's still research to be done," she insisted, reaching for her robes. "I'll know more when the results have been evaluated." She was all proper business once more, and it irritated him greatly.

He closed his eyes briefly. "You are the most exasperating creature I've ever met."

She pursed her lips. "The feeling is mutual, Headmaster." She deposited the satchel in which the magically-shrunk Mirror of Erised rested and folded it into the inside pocket of her burgundy robes. "Good day, Sir."

"I'll be waiting to hear about those results," he called after her, watching her robes billow as she moved toward the exit.

He had been wrong. It had been a _very_ enjoyable - and enlightening - afternoon.


End file.
